


Find Me, In Another Place And Time

by UniverseOnHerShoulders



Series: Take Me To The Stars [11]
Category: Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: Christmas Fluff, F/F, Polyamory, Reunions
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-30
Updated: 2018-12-30
Packaged: 2019-09-30 12:42:24
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,858
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17224292
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/UniverseOnHerShoulders/pseuds/UniverseOnHerShoulders
Summary: Clara had always known that this moment would come. There's only so long that you can spend with a married time traveller before the past catches up with them.She still wasn't anticipating the arrival of hell in high heels on Boxing Day, though.





	Find Me, In Another Place And Time

**Author's Note:**

> This is a direct sequel to [Make My Wish Come True,](https://archiveofourown.org/works/17094938) in that it picks up the day after that fic ends.
> 
> Fic title is from 'Baby' by Clean Bandit.
> 
> Hope everyone is having a lovely festive period!

They’re most of the way through the Boxing Day lunch of champions – cold turkey, salad, mashed potatoes and ham – when the door to the diner slams open, letting in an uncomfortably warm gust of air and sand from the Nevada desert outside. Clara isn’t paying much attention, if she’s honest – she’s got her eyes trained on the Doctor, who’s wearing a paper hat in a spectacular shade of crimson, laughing at one of Ryan’s jokes, pulling a cracker with Yaz and defending her plate from Graham’s fork with effortless simultaneity. As the door clicks shut, there’s the sound of high heels on the linoleum floor, and it’s that which causes the Doctor to look up and the expression to slide off her face in an instant, the half of the cracker she’d secured dropping to the tabletop as she pulls off her hat and adopts a suitably sombre expression.

Clara doesn’t need to follow her gaze to know who the new arrival is. She’s spent months anticipating such a visit, and it’s no surprise that they’ve finally been found. They haven’t exactly tried to be subtle – the Doctor had insisted on keeping the diner where it is, and… she narrows her eyes in suspicion then, resolving to have words with the Time Lady later on. Much later on, when the woman in Louboutins has left. _If_ she leaves.

“Hello, sweetie,” River Song says brightly from across the table,  smiling over at the Doctor and studiously ignoring the assembled non-Gallifreyans as she hitches her sunglasses up and sits them atop her hair. “Sorry I’m late. Traffic was hell.” 

“That’s…” the Doctor swallows, visibly thrown by River’s presence. “That’s my line.”

“I’m borrowing it. Happy Christmas, darling, haven’t you got quite the little family going?”

“I urm…” the Doctor runs a hand through her hair nervously, a half-remembered gesture favoured by her previous incarnation that tugs at Clara’s heartstrings. “Yeah, I have. This is Ryan, Yaz, and Graham. You already know Clara, of course.” 

River and Clara’s eyes lock, and there is something in the archaeologist’s gaze that Clara can’t read. Jealousy? Bitterness? Anger? Sadness? She hasn’t the time to attempt to fathom it before River’s attention is drawn away by the team, and Clara groans inwardly as she realises what’s about to happen. 

“Urm, team, this is River,” the Doctor manages. “My ah… my wife.” 

River waggles her fingers at them with a grin, and in synchronicity all three of the team look from her to Clara to the Doctor and then back again. 

“Doc…” Graham begins, keeping his eyes fixed on the Time Lady as he speaks, his plate of food momentarily forgotten in favour of something much tastier. “Not wishing to be difficult, but…”

“But you can’t have a wife,” Yaz blurts, visibly in awe of the new arrival, and Clara resists the urge to roll her eyes. “You’ve got Clara.” 

The Doctor seems to crumble back into herself, bowed by the weight of her friends’ confusion. “It’s… complicated.” 

“No, it’s not,” Yaz protests. “If you’ve got a wife, you shouldn’t be stringing Clara on, should you? No offence, Clara.” 

Clara tries hard not to look put out at being relegated to second place, and instead rises from the table, gathering plates into one hand before sweeping off towards the kitchen with her head down. 

“It’s complicated,” she hears the Doctor repeat behind her as the kitchen door swings shut, and she sets the plates down with a clatter, bowing her head over the counter and fighting back tears. They couldn’t live in insular domestic bliss forever – there had always been the ghost of Professor River Song weighing over them, unspoken of and skirted around. She’d wanted to discuss it – many times she’d tried, and many times the Doctor had rebuffed her with blunt words and a refusal to acknowledge what they both knew to be the elephant in the room. She’d tried to tell herself that River would never know about them; that given River’s present and complicated relationship to life that she wouldn’t be likely to appear, but Clara had underestimated the complex relationship with linear temporality that the Doctor’s wife held, and now? Now this. 

“Hello.” 

She jumps at the sound of River’s voice behind her, and realises with humiliation that her cheeks are wet. 

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to startle you.” 

“S’fine,” Clara mumbles, swiping the back of her hand over her eyes and turning to dump the used plates into the industrial dishwasher. As she straightens up, she finds River leaning against an adjacent countertop, her expression inexplicably contrite. 

“I don’t just mean just now,” River says quietly, dropping her gaze to the floor. “I mean turning up at all. It must have been a shock, and I didn’t think about how it would make you feel. I’m sorry.” 

“Oh,” Clara replies mechanically, aiming for casual nonchalance. “No, not a shock at all.” 

“You’re a terrible liar.” 

“I…” 

“I’m not here to claim her back for myself, if that’s what you’re worried about.” 

“No,” Clara lies, but the thought of it makes her stomach clench. “No, of course not.” 

“She’s allowed her own life and her own loves. Lord knows, I have mine. We’re both only human, in the fallible sense of the phrase.” 

“I suppose.” 

“Do you love her?” River asks, and the question is so unexpectedly frank that Clara can only blink at her in consternation. “That’s… that’s all I need to know – that’s all I need from you. I need to know that you love her wholly and you will never, ever hurt her. Because I’m not entrusting her to anyone who is anything less than fully committed to being the best partner they can be to her.”

“Of course I love her,” Clara says. “How can you even…”

“I saw you with Bow-Tie,” River smiles at the recollection, before adopting a more apologetic expression. “And I remember hearing rumours of you with my Scottish stick insect, and the way the two of you looked at each other as you saved civilisations. But I didn’t know if anything had changed when she did.” 

“Has anything changed for you?” Clara counters, the words a touch more aggressive than intended, but she’s angry now – angry at the implication of what River is saying, and angry at the assumptions being made. “Do you feel any differently about her?”

“No, but her and I… it’s different. Our love story is different.” 

“How is it? You’ve loved every face from the first to the last, and so have I. You forget who I am and what I did.” 

“I do not forget,” River says with indignation, looking taken aback by Clara’s words. “I don’t ever forget what you did to save him, and rest assured, had it not been for that, I would be tearing you limb from limb as we speak.” 

“So I only have value because I was willing to die for him?” 

“Plenty are willing to die for him. Only you were willing to die a million deaths for him,” River hesitates, her cheeks turning a delicate shade of pink as she continues: “And no, you don’t only have value because of that. It’s perfectly plain to see that she adores you, and you her. Your sacrifice was perhaps… an introductory peace-offering.”

“A peace offering?” Clara lets out a yelp of disbelief, and River’s blush deepens. “How dare you?” 

“In doing that, I knew that my idiot with a box was in the most capable and loving of hands, Clara,” she drops her gaze to the linoleum. “I’m trying to be kind. I’m trying to say that you’re a good person, and I trust you with her.”

“Are you?” Clara raises her eyebrows in disbelief, still prickling at the hidden meanings behind River’s words. “This seems like a very backhanded compliment.” 

“I’m…” River sighs in frustration. “I’m sorry. I’m not good at this, I never have been.” 

“At what?” 

“Trying to befriend his other great loves.”

“Don’t you dare try to lump me in with all the other little humans he – they – have fallen for.”

“Look,” River sighs again, more heavily this time, and she appear genuinely contrite. “Please. I don’t want to fight with you. I don’t want to do battle for the Doctor like she’s some kind of trophy to be won. I think you’re a good person, and you love her, and she loves you, and for me, that’s more than enough. I just need to know if you’re alright with the idea of me, and from time to time, maybe the actuality of me – if I could maybe borrow her for the odd week or two, here and there.” 

“Oh,” Clara blinks, realising her defensiveness may have hindered the progress that stands to be made between the two of them. “Urm, no, that’s… that’s fine. Of course you can.” 

“Thank you.” 

“Sorry for being so defensive, and sorry for…” she gestures vaguely with one hand, feeling abruptly embarrassed “You know. Carrying on with her without thinking of you.” 

“Don’t be,” River says with a shrug, and Clara can tell that there is no resentment simmering behind the façade – there is truly no ill will there, only compassion and understanding. “She needs someone with her when and after she changes, and that can never be me, for reasons I won’t try to explain. It breaks my heart to not be able to support her through it, but she has _you_. You’ve guided her through so much and you take such good care of her, like you always have done, and for that I’m in your debt.” 

“Don’t be silly,” Clara scoffs, reaching for River’s hand and squeezing it gently. “Look, why don’t we go out there and demolish the Christmas cake I’ve made? Yeah? And you two can catch up, and the team can get to know you.”

“That…” River smiles hesitantly, giving Clara’s hand a reciprocal squeeze. “That would be nice.” 

They step out of the kitchen together, still hand in hand, and the Doctor’s attention snaps over to them at once, her gaze panning from their smiles down to their entwined fingers. A look of confusion passes over her face before she gets to her feet and embraces them both, and it’s awkward and a touch uncomfortable, their bodies pressing together at odd angles, but it works. 

“OK?” the Doctor whispers, her eyes full of concern. “Both of you?” 

“Yeah, we’re OK,” Clara affirms, letting go of River’s hand and hugging the Doctor tightly. “Are you? Are they?”

“We’re confused,” Graham mumbles through a mouthful of mash, having apparently felt comfortable enough to resume eating. “It’s all very modern, this.” 

“Polyamory was a concept as far back as ancient Greece,” River informs him politely. “I’d know, I invented it.” 

His eyes go wide as she plonks down in the chair beside him, reaching over and snagging a piece of ham from his plate before he can object, and the Doctor laughs at his look of horror. “Now, I believe I have three new friends to make and a wife to re-acquaint with.” 

Clara grins. “Cake, anyone?”


End file.
